What Is And What Never Should Have Been
by RoseEmily
Summary: Dean gets kidnapped by a Djinn and finds himself in an alternative reality. Rewritten version of the episode from second season. As always, I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

The Impalas engines low purr was the only thing that could be heard as Dean was driving through the dimming night rather aimlessly, just waiting for the call from Sam, letting him know where to head next. He had been given the mission to go out and look for anything unusual, as Sam had come to a dead end on his research and needed some time to go through his sources. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and stole glances from the phone, just waiting for it to start to ring at any given time.

It seemed like a thousand miles of suburbia later that the phone finally started to play the tell-tale start beats of Ozzy's Not Going Away, indicating that Sammy had found the thing they were supposed to be hunting. Trying to hide the eagerness in his voice that would have revealed how ready he was to jump on a new case, on any case, Dean grabbed the phone and pressed the green button.

"Yeah?"

Instead of giving a location to witch way head Sam kept his voice low and murmured to the phone, which in itself would have made Dean nervous in any situation, but the thing the other Winchester said made Dean look for the nearest place to turn his car;

"There's a cop-car outside." came the whisper from the other end of the phone line. Sam was back at the hotel room they'd rented for their stay and had practically glued his eyes to the car with flashing lights outside. His heart was racing and he could feel the adrenalin pump through his veins as his body readied itself to fight or flight.

"You think it's for us?" Dean asked as calmly as possible, but still looking for places to turn, just in case Sam would need help or an escape car; he would be there in ten minutes tops.

Sammy shook his head and tried to think; could it possibly be that Hendricksen was already on their tale?  
"I don't know." he said instead of worrying Dean too much; it would not help if his brother would come back and get himself arrested as well.

Dean tried to calm himself, rationalize, it couldn't be for them, they'd been careful enough, they had ditched all the leads, and they'd gone in deep. Only thing they hadn't done was move to Canada.

"I don't see how, I mean we ditched the plates, the credit cards."

As if from queue Sam looked as the flashing lights of the cop-car drove away from the hotels parking lot. He huffed. Sometimes the convenience of things amazed him. Or then Dean was more of a psychic than he ever led on. Well that was a thought.  
Out loud he only ended up telling Dean about the false alarm; just to hear his brother's slightly arrogant I told you so speech. He rolled his eyes and retorted;

"Yeah. Being fugitives? Freaking dance party."

"Hey man, chicks digg the danger vibe." Sam could almost see Deans face; the wolfish grin and a slight lick on his lips. The younger hunter couldn't but roll his eyes again, convinced that one day they would be stuck in one of the odd angles he was rolling them to, seeing that he did it a lot while hanging around his brother.

None the less he stood up from where he had been crouching beneath the window and walked to the table where he had displayed his research on the demon or thing called Djinn, a sort of a genie that had caused havoc in the town and that they were now hunting down. John's diary was sprawled on top of the pile of old books and opened on the page that naturally was about the thing.

He was still stuck with the research. There had been nothing of use neither in the books nor in the diary, since both seemingly seemed to believe that finding the thing wasn't as hard as killing it. He scrunched his face and pinched his nose.

"So, you got anything yet?" he asked his brother hoping for something new; he had a bunch of adrenalin in his body and he needed to use it somehow. Hunting down a creepy genie would do as well as anything else.

Dean on the other hand wasn't amused either. He had been hoping for freaking something. His ass was getting numb from all the sitting; they had already driven two days to get there and now he had spent hours driving through empty, almost finished housing areas and idyllic houses with happy families and a white picket fences. So he let his frustration be heard in his voice;

"Are you kidding me? How could I? You got me shifting through like 50 square miles of real-estate here."

This was not going to turn into a wild goose chase. There had to be some reason to make his ass this numb.

"Well, that's where all the victims disappeared." Sam said leafing through the books on the table and trying to come up with at least something.

"Yeah well, I get at least squat. What about you?" Dean said while in his mind he was praying for something, anything to get out of his state of boredom.

"Just one thing" Sam said and Dean was instantly hanging to every word his brother was saying, "I'm pretty sure of it now." Sam drew one of the books closer to him and stared at the picture on the page, "We're hunting a Djinn."

Back in the Impala Dean snorted,

"A freaking genie?"

"Yeah." was the only answer Dean got back, and it made him wonder what the other man was thinking.

"What? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?" He said and for a while let his mind wonder on what he would wish; there were a lot of things he could wish for, but what would he actually go for? He shook the idea out of his head quickly; there wasn't such a thing as a free gift. These suckers always had a price they made you pay. A price that often enough was way too high.

Sam shook his head back at the hotel room; that's not what he thought.

"I don't know. I guess they're powerful enough. . But not exactly like Barbara Eden and the harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They're all over the Koran."

The mention of the actress made Deans eyes glass over for a while.

"My God. Barbara Eden was hot, wasn't she? Way hotter than that Bewitched chick."

Yes, there was something about older movies that hit a special spot in Dean's heart; those and a good bottle of beer and a good looking chick in his arm. That right there was his paradise.

Sam couldn't help but chuckle. This was the brother he remembered from their teen years; would the older Winchester ever grow up?

"Are you even listening to me?" he asked with a smile on his lips, not even waiting for a coherent answer.

Dean popped out of his fairy tale, a bit sourly if he could be honest.

"Yeah. So uh, where do the Djinns lair at?"

Sam scratched his chin and checked the books, he was sure he had seen it somewhere, and sure enough he found the thing he was looking for on the next page.

"Ruins usually," he told Dean, "Uh, bigger the better, more places to hide."

Well, naturally, thought Dean. All the creepy things liked to lurk in the dark. Wonder why that was; guess they just didn't like their own reflection too much.

As he was deep in his thought, Dean remembered the old factory he had driven past when Sam first had been a sweet heart and called him. Guess he could check it out; he did need to stretch his legs.

"Yeah, I think I saw a place couple of miles back. I'm going to check it out."

Sam could just feel that something was going to go wrong if he let Dean go out alone and he immediately started to protest;

"No, no, no, no. Come pick me up first."

But as stubborn as his brother was, he should have known that there was no convincing him out of something he had already decided to go through.

"I'm sure it's nothing. I just wanna take a look around." was the last thing Sam heard before the line went dead as the other hunter closed the phone. Sam couldn't but drive his hand through his hair and worry. He decided that if there would be no sound from his thickheaded brother before the morning he'd have to go and look for him.

Dean hit the brakes and made a turn at one of the points he still had subconsciously been looking for if Sam would have needed his presence back at the hotel. He had driven past the factory about ten minutes ago when he had originally picked up the phone, it couldn't be too far away. So he stepped on it. The building had already then prickled his ghost hunter senses so to speak; it had just screamed creepy crawlers and trouble.

It wasn't long after that he parked the car on the parking lot next to the ominous looking building. He grabbed his flashlight from the seat and hopped out of the car, going round to the trunk. So a Djinn huh, he thought and reached for the silver knife; it should do the trick. He walked calmly towards the empty looking building, not having any clue what's going to be in store for him.

The building was empty; the walls were cowered in cobwebs and his steps echoed too loudly on the floors. He's not going to surprise any supernatural entity with this amount of noise caused by mere movements. Then again, the place did look rather empty to him and it doesn't give the same raise your neck hair feeling that haunted places tend to give in general. Yet there is something prickling in the back of his mind as he walked slowly and ready to attack.

When he came to the end of one hallway and turned to exit through the hall he hadn't checked yet, he failed to notice the dark shadow creeping behind him, almost covered behind the old boxes, closing in on him with every step he took.

Dean kept on walking, already quite convinced that the place is empty and Sam had sent him on a wild goose chase. Again. He shook his head and muttered to himself when he felt the heavy weight smash on to him and pin him to the wall to his right. The flashlight fell to the ground and he tried to hold up the knife, only to find his hand pinned to the wall as well. The Djinn slammed his hand against the wall until he was forced to drop the knife, his only way of protecting himself and making him feel utterly naked in front of the threat.

The creature holding him looked rather man like, its skin covered in what looked like blue tribal tattoos. If Dean would have seen the thing in daylight he might have thought it to be just some over fanatical inker. Nothing too special about its looks, until its eyes started to glow slightly and it lifted its even more glowing finger up slowly, aiming it on Dean's face. This is when he decided that it was definitely not some ultra-biker but something far more dangerous and he started to struggle for his life.

Unfortunately it was too late; the Djinn touched Dean on the forehead with its glowing finger and Dean could feel as his muscles rapidly went completely limp, and his mind blanked out almost immediately. The last thing he thought before the darkness took him was how tired and somehow good he felt; wondering if this was what death felt like.

The Djinn smiled as the hunter fell to its feet, his eyes slowly fading and the blue glow of them fading, making his eyes green again, and staring into nothingness. This was the first time the Djinn hadn't needed to go out and hunt for a new victim and it quite liked the change of the prey walking straight to its lair. It hauled Dean over its shoulder and dragged him into the dark.

Dean felt so tired. Too tired to open up his eyes and look around. He felt so good and soft and safe. Oh god, just let him stay in this state forever. He groaned a bit and turned on the soft bed he was obviously lying on.

Then it all comes back to him; the factory, the Djinn, the glowing eyes and then the darkness.

He jumped up and stared at the TV in front of the bed, playing an old black and white horror movie on low volume. A slimy beast is roaring and a woman screaming, just like in any other film. Dean pants heavily and looks around in the dark room, only then becoming aware of the other body on the bed, breathing slowly, it's back towards him. He kept on staring at the lump next to him, debating on if he should just jump on it or not. He decided against it and leaned in closer, the other then turning to face him. It was a man; a rather attractive man at that, snoring slightly, with his brown hair sticking out in every direction. And it was now obvious that he was half naked.

Dean peeked under the blankets without thinking and blushed. They were both half naked; both only wearing boxers. With the blush burning on his cheeks he got out of bed and tip toed with his bare feet through the door and to the other room that clearly worked as a living room.

He fumbled in the dark, searching for his phone. Where was he? How had he gotten there? And more importantly; how had he ended up in bed with a man?

He needed to call Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you** for all the comments! I live by them, so they are very much appreciated!

The phone beeped, signaling that it was making the connection. Dean dragged his hand over his mouth and along his jaw in nervousness, a thing he did only when he was completely and utterly confused. He let his eyes wonder through the dark apartment wildly, without seeing anything. Why did it take so long for Sam to answer? Had something happened?

He started pacing around the room, the phone clutched in a death grip, hoping and praying that his brother would answer. Please, he thought, aiming his eyes at the ceiling, please.

When the beeping sound of ringing finally turned into a groggy and questioning grunt that apparently was his name Dean sighed and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Sam?"

"What's going on?" came the confused answer from the other end of the phone. The other had apparently been completely out of it, and Dean couldn't help but smirk at the answer, before he got serious again; this wasn't something he should be joking about, and he really needed his brother's help. At least a ride back if nothing else, and a rational explanation to why he was in bed with a man would be nice as well. He shook his head in bewilderment and dragged his hand through his hair.

"I don't know," he told his brother and walked back to the doorway to peek into the bedroom, where the other man was still sleeping and snoring lightly. _I_ really _don't know_, he thought, "I don't know where I am."

This made Sam jolt up from where he had been lying, now completely awake; he knew how Dean got himself into all kinds of trouble.

"What? What happened?" he asked ready to bolt out of bed and into the rescue if needed, the man was his brother after all, and Sam was going to do whatever necessary to get him home safely.

Dean pinched his nose as he tried to remember what had happened; it all seemed a bit foggy at the moment; the last thing he could remember was the Djinn pinning him to the wall and poking him with its magic finger of lightshows, then the next thing he could remember was waking up here, next to the snoring man, only in his underwear. But how he'd got there, he had no clue.

"The uh, the Djinn. It attacked me."

Sam huffed at that; apparently Dean would never grow up.

"The gin? You're… drinking gin?"

Dean could have face palmed himself; how short was this kid's attention span? Twenty minutes ago, when they'd last spoken, he had sent him to a freaking creepy crawler factory to hunt the thing, had even wanted to tag along and now all he could think about was alcohol? Not to say that he couldn't do with one, but hey, not _now_.

"No, asshat," he replied, slightly gritting his teeth, trying to keep himself from shouting, just not to wake the other in the bedroom, "The _Djinn,_" he pronounced every word as clearly as possible to the little prat, "the uh, scary creature. Remember? It put its hand on me and I woke up next to some…" Dean leaned his head backwards and stared into the bedroom and at the lump that had changed position on the bed and had now stopped snoring, " a good-looking dude, _that wares only boxers to bed_." He ended his sentence in a whisper.

Sam scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "Who? Cas?"

"Who?" came from the other end of the line and Sam relaxed, leaning back to the softness of the pillows with a knowing smile on his lips. He shook his head and wondered why he had for a second there thought that his brother had actually gotten himself in some serious trouble.

"Dean, you're drunk." Sam said almost chuckling at the incredibility of the situation. "You're drunk-dialing me."

Dean was getting frustrated; he was not drunk, he should be blaming Sam for being drunk, as the man obviously had lost every contact to his short term memory.

"I'm not drunk," he practically shouted to the phone, not even caring about how loud he was anymore, "Quit screwing around!"

Sam pinched his nose and decided he should do something to calm down his clearly drunk out of his mind brother. He didn't know how to deal with things like this anymore though; it had been a long, long time since he had been on the receiving end of one of Dean's famous drunk calls and he had worked hard to try and suppress those memories in the depths of his mind. Maybe he was living in denial, but that was better than just wallowing in self-pity. At least that was Sam's opinion.

"Look, it's late. Alright, just get some sleep and I'll…" Sam sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this? "… see you tomorrow, ok?"

He ended the phone call even if he could hear the loud protests from Dean, and slid down to bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling. He pinched his eyes shut even if he knew he was not going to get any real sleep tonight. In his mind he cursed his brother and his love for alcohol.

Dean wasn't ready to end the call and was still calling to his brother even if the phone beeped to signal him that the call had indeed ended. He felt like throwing the phone to the wall, but decided it might not be the smartest move, so he just threw it onto the couch where it landed with a displeasing little thud.

Dean pressed his palms to his eyes and tried to think. He would just have to get hold of this alone then; not the first time, he'd done it before, so why not now.

He started to roam the living room in search for clues, and came by a stack of yet unopened letters piled up on the coffee table. He picked up the one on the top and read the receiver;

Castiel Porter

1 53 Barker Ave

LAWRENCE, KS 66044

His brow furrowed as he stared at the address, muttered it out loud to himself, stopping at the name of the city; was he in Lawrence?

He went through the rest of the pile and they were all addressed to him or to a Castiel Porter, who most likely was that other man in the bed since they had the same address. But... "What the hell?"

He was so concentrated on the letters, that he didn't even hear the small distinctive sounds of footsteps slapping on the floor behind him. Didn't notice before the small table lamp on the counter was turned on and the room was filled with soft yellow light that is.

Dean practically jumped to the roof with surprise of the sudden change in the lighting, his body filling with adrenalin. His heart was racing and it took him a moment to focus on the man standing beside the lamp, shielding his eyes from the still too bright light, and sleepily staring at him.  
"Dean?" the man asked, and took a couple of steps forward, so that he was now standing a couple of feet away from the hunter.

Dean let his eyes wander on the other man; he was well built, not too much muscle nor completely skinny, a couple of inches shorter than Dean and his eyes were the most staggering blue Dean had ever seen. His brown hair was sticking out in every direction and the green boxers were hanging dangerously low on his hips.

Dean swallowed hard; something about this man made a knot tie itself into the pit of his stomach, making him feel weird and even more confused than a couple of seconds ago.

"What are you doing up?" the man asked looking straight into Deans eyes, making him feel like his personal space was invaded, but in a nonviolent, searching and worrying way, like a worried lover does to another.

The thought of lovers almost made Dean blush, and wonder why he had thought about that. It most definitely did not make answering any easier.

"Hey.." Dean stole a glimpse at the letters in his hand, equipped with the name he assumed to be the mans, "Castiel." and then he remembered what Sam had called him on the phone, and decided that if they were sleeping in the same bed, they probably were on little closer terms than full first name, "Cas, uh, I just uh…" There was apparently nothing left of the suave and charming ladies' man left in Dean. He had been degraded to the level of mere mortals in this matter. Just great.

To his surprise the other man just chuckled and closed the final distance between the two, closing Dean in a more than just friends embrace, still looking at his eyes, but now smiling knowingly, the smile making his blue eyes twinkle, which in its turn made Deans stomach make a flip.

"Can't sleep, huh?" the man, Cas, asked and drew Dean in closer, their hips now touching each other and Cas' hands almost uncomfortably close to Dean's ass. Almost.

Dean blushed and hoped that it didn't show in the warm light of the lamp, and just muttered a yeah as an agreement to the statement. He was bloody sure he wouldn't be able to sleep, not after this at least.

"Well," Cas said with a mischievous smile and a slight tug closer (how was that even possible? They were practically glued to one another for Christ's sake), "why don't you come back to bed and let's see if I can do anything to help."

The suggestion in the man's words was clear, and it hit something inside Dean he couldn't deny; he really wanted to follow the other man back to bed and see if he really had something he could, erm, _do_, to help.

"Sure." Dean let out before even realizing his mouth had betrayed him and spoken before his brain had given the command. "In a minute." he added hastily; he still needed to figure things out before he would do anything. Still, something in his mind told him that he did not want to hurt this man. "You… you go ahead." he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but went unnoticed by the dark haired man.

"Ok, don't stay up too long." the man said and pecked Dean so naturally, that he wouldn't have even noticed if it wouldn't have been for the intense tingling it sent through his entire body, making him shiver and rushing the bloody into all the areas it shouldn't be rushing to, not at least now.

Dean followed as the other man padded bare feet back to the bedroom, and vanished out of sight. Soon he could hear the sheets moving as a body settled under the blankets. He tried to clear his head by shaking it, and walked onto the couch, where he dropped down heavily. For a while he just stared at the wall without seeing it.

When he came to his senses, he picked up a photo from the side table and looked at it. The shock ran through his very spine and he dropped, almost threw the photo away with a loud crash as he bolted for the door and out of the apartment.

Cas woke up from his slumber to a loud crashing sound followed shortly by the door banging. He jumped out of bed and practically ran to the living room, just to find a broken picture of him and Dean with the rest of the Winchester family lying on the floor, covered in shattered pieces of glass. Gingerly he picked the photo from the pile and placed it on the table, so he could clear up the mess. Worry was gnawing at the pit of his stomach; Dean was acting weirdly. He wasn't sure what he should do. So he did what every sane person would have done; he picked up the broken frame and glass, and phoned the man's mother.


	3. Chapter 3

As the door slams shut behind Dean and he stands outside on the porch a very real realization hits him; he can feel the ground under his bare feet. Suddenly the rushing out doesn't feel like the best idea anymore and he reaches back for the doorknob; just to find it locked. Well shit.  
There he stands only in his boxers, shivering in the night air, with a locked door that would lead to all the clothes he so desires at the moment. He blushes, and tells himself it's the cold colouring his cheeks. It isn't like him to blush, and he has done it what, three times in the last half an hour.

Should he just ring the doorbell?

As he reaches for the doorbell (really, he's not so desperate that he's going to go running around the streets half ass naked), he catches a clothes line on the other side of the porch, where someone has left clothes to dry; there are pants and shirts just hanging there, pants and shirts to fit all needs and even a pair of slippers on the floor next to the clothes line. He sighs of relief and pulls on a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt. The slippers aren't too fancy, with a hole right beside the big toe, but they'll have to do for now.

Not too bad. He can deal with this without getting arrested of public nudity; as far as he knows, it's not illegal to showcase ones toes in Kansas.

He walks to the Impala, now parked neatly in front of the house. He doesn't have the keys, but that has never been a problem before and he's soon inside his ride, driving away into the night.

As he drives he tries to clear up his thoughts; the photo just couldn't be real, could it? Well, just one way to find out, right?

He drove until he saw the familiar house and front yard. He parked the car, shut the motor and just stared at the house, deep in thought. The lights were out, the grass had gotten a bit too long and there was a wind chime tinkling in the wind.

Slowly, he stepped out of the car and walked to the porch; he hesitated, just a second, before first knocking on the door, then ringing the bell, two times for good measure.

He didn't have to wait long; only a couple of seconds after the last ring and the porch light illuminates the darkness, letting him see a figure coming towards the door the shadow illuminating on the curtain covering the window on the door. The door opens without hesitation and there she stands;

Mary, in her nightgown and a purple bathrobe swung over it, her hands crossed over her stomach, guarding her from the cold chill of the night air. Her eyes are studying his face, full of worry. She looks just like Dean remembers her; maybe a bit older but still. It's like the fire never happened. Dean can't stop staring at her. She's here.

"Dean." She says. It's not a question but a statement, and something in the way she says his name makes Dean feel all warm and fuzzy inside; like he's finally come home after years and years of being lost. He had to blink a few times, to avoid tears running down his cheeks; he was not a freaking sissy and he had already been blushing, there would be no crying.

Still, there was something stuck in Dean's throat when he croaks out the only word that he can manage;

"Mom?"

Mary scrunched her eyebrows and looked worried. She could see that something was wrong with Dean; it was a long time ago since she had seen his son on the verge of crying; even at his father's funeral he had put on a brave face, even if no one could be fooled by it.

"What are you doing here? Are you alright?" She gave Dean a mother hen look Dean could remember from his childhood; when he had been doing something, well, not too safe and hurt himself she would have been there to blow on the "battle wounds", no matter how small they had been.

"I… I don't know." was all he could say, and all he could do was stare at the woman. She looked a bit confused, but stepped aside from the door.

"Well…" she says and waves her hand, motioning invitingly as Dean just stands there and keeps on staring like his lost the last bit of his already confused mind. "…come inside."

Dean snaps out of his trance and steps in through the door, but still keeps his eyes glued on the woman. It's just that for the first time in his life he can't believe his eyes. There needs to be some sort of explanation for this. Something…

"Cas just called; he said you just took off all of a sudden. And just in your under wear on top of that." she smiles a bit at this and gives Dean a good look up and down, chuckling when she sees the slippers he's wearing. Dean glances down and knots his toes; his big toe vanishes out of view, before the words Mary had said actually reach his consciousness.

"Cas?" It takes him a while to link the name and the man back at the apartment together. "Right…" he would not sleep with a man. There has to be something behind all of this. He glances back at Mary, now determined to make sure that it is her. He wouldn't be lead on.

"Let me ask you a question." He gives Mary a searching look and decides to go with the one question he's sure no one else could possibly know the answer to;

"When I was a kid, what did you always tell me when you put me to bed?"

She looked at Dean, with slight confusion on her face; "Dean, I don't understand-"

Dean stomach made a lurch, was this really his mother? His face and voice hardened. "Just answer the question." he said, without any sympathy in his voice. If this was some sort of impostor he was going to beat the living shit out of it; how dear it impersonate his mother, living or dead.

Mary stared back at Dean, wondering what was going on with his son, if he'd gone completely mad. There was a slight worry in her expression, but she had already decided that if this was what he needed to hear, then that was what she would tell him.

Dean almost quivered with anger; if this woman couldn't answer the question it wouldn't be his mother. And now it looked pretty sure that it didn't know it. But then she smiled and reached out to touch his cheek gently; "I told you angels are watching over you."

The heavy weight rolled off of Dean's heart and he could breathe easily again. "I don't believe it." he said out loud, voicing his thoughts. He reached out and grabbed her into a real tight embrace; a hug that he had been waiting for, for years.

"Honey you're scaring me." Mary mumbles into the scruff of his neck, where he'd pressed her head. He backs off and smiles weakly. "Now just tell me what's going on." She was even more worried now.

"You don't believe wishes can, can really…" Dean almost choked on his own words. He had to stop for a while to swallow and breathe; it felt like he'd been holding his breath for minutes.

"What?"

Dean chuckled, "Forget it"" and drew her back into a hug; this time a little less desperate one, since he didn't want to scare his mom more than necessary. She answered the embrace so he thought it would be fine; his mother was tougher than what she looked like. Still, he thought it was only fair to give at least some sort of explanation;

"I'm juts, uh… I'm just happy to see you, that's all." he had to swallow down his tears again, but this time he managed to pull it together. He released her from the hug and looked down at her, smiling fully, the laugh lines in the corner of his eyes visible. "You're beautiful." he said and laughed a little at the irony; when he usually says that to a woman, they end up in bed, having, erm, fun. He'd never had the chance to tell his mother she was beautiful.

"What?" Mary asked amused now. Dean wondered if he's ever told her that; even here. From now on he would make damn sure she'd be hearing it a lot.

He finally let his eyes wonder from the woman and looked around; the place looked nice. Not quite like he remembered it from before the fire, but the same elements can be seen. Talking about the fire…  
"Hey, when I was uh… When I was young was there ever a fire here?" he asked, glancing at his mom over his shoulder before walking over to the wall and the book case, filled with proudly displayed photos.

"No. Never." Mary says shaking her head and watching her son intensely go through the wall, moving from picture to picture like he'd never seen them before.

"Huh." Dean huffed, "I thought there was." he liked this reality more and more.

He watched at the photos, filled with happy memories; a family portrait with both his parents and Sammy, every one smiling and happy. The picture made him smile; Sam had gotten the childhood he'd completely missed.

"I guess I was wrong." and never had he been so damn happy about being wrong.

There's another picture of him, wearing a cap and his cool face, looking at the camera like he owns the world; Dean chuckled at that. He betted he was really annoying as a teenager. There's also a picture of him, a pretty looking chick at his arm, all smiles and formality, it was a normal prom picture taken at a normal prom. But the chick was good looking, and Dean approves of his younger-self's taste. At least that had stayed the same. Then the picture of the man in his bed, Castiel, pops back to his head and he can't but wonder what had happened to make that his reality.

When he comes to the last picture he picks it up with a huge smile; it's a black and white photo of John, wearing a baseball uniform, topped even with one of those silly caps the athletes use to wear, a bat in his hand and ready to swing. John is looking straight to the camera and wearing a smile to match Deans.

"Dad's on a softball team…" he muttered to himself, slightly amused, since he just can't see his serious and military like dad having such a vanilla hobby as softball. He turned around to Mary who had again crossed her arms to her stomach even if it wasn't cold, looking worried even if Dean was smiling; "Dad's… dad's softball team it's… That's funny to me." Dean said, only telling the truth.

Mary looked sadly at the picture and hugged herself a bit harder with her arms, like giving comfort. "He loved that stupid team." she said with a sad smile.

"Dad's dead?" Dean asked, but his mother took it as a statement. Which would have been good, but suddenly it's very important for Dean to know how his father had died, "And the thing that killed him was a…"

"A stroke. He died in his sleep, you know that."

Dean was relived; for a while there he had thought that it had been the yellow eyed demon that had ended his father. But thank you to all the gods, Azaziel was not the one to be blamed of this death.

"That's great." he said, and meant it. Rather a stroke, a painless way to go in his sleep than selling his soul and going to hell. Apparently Mary didn't agree.

"Excuse me?"

Well that's not how he'd meant it. "That's… that's great. That he went peacefully." he said and nodded convincingly a couple of times, "That sure beats the alternative." he added to himself.

Mary shook his head and looked slightly disappointed at the floor rather than Dean;  
"You've been drinking."

"No, I haven't. Mom." Dean tried to make it very clear that he had definitely not been drinking; why did every one think he'd been drinking? Was that all he did here? Drank?

Mary was already walking to the phone in the hallway, giving Dean a couple of equally worried as disappointed glances at the same time. "Just gonna call Cas and have him come pick you up, ok?" she said to Dean as she reached for the phone, picking it up and getting ready to dial the number.

"Wait. No, no!" Dean didn't want to go back to the apartment. He wanted to stay here, make sure this wasn't just a dream and Mary was going to be okay even in the morning. That he was still going to be here in the morning.

He walks to Mary and gently takes the phone from her hand and places it back on the table. "Don't-don't do that." he tries desperately to come up with an excuse to stay here, so that he won't have to go, so he can spend as much time as possible with his mother.

Mary stares back up at him with amazement; usually Dean wouldn't mind Cas picking him up, au de contraire, he prefers it. And Mary knows why; the men were so close that they seemed to be reading each other's minds at times. So why would Dean want to stay here?

That was exactly the same thing that Dean was thinking at the same moment.  
"Because I-" come up with something you stupid…"I miss this place." yes, that could do. "It's ok, you-you go to bed. Ok?"

Dean gives Mary a reassuring look, walks to the couch, sits down heavily, leans back and lets himself sink into the sweet, sweet softness of the couch.

Something inside Mary's mind softens at the sight; it's like his son has come back after a long journey and she is happy to welcome him home, even if he never actually left. So she walks up to him, strokes his face and asks what every mother would at the same situation;

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Dean smiles at his mother so radiantly that she knows the answer before it passes his lips;

"I think so."

"Ok."

She bends down and kisses his forehead, like all mothers do. She looks at Dean for a second before walking to the door, just to stop and look back again.

"Get some rest." she says. "I love you."

The statement makes Dean glow inside and he feels like he would be floating over the moon. How mushy of him, but for once he doesn't care.

"Me too." he replies, listens as Mary's footsteps climb up the stairs and suddenly feels tired. So tired.

The last thing he sees before sleep takes him is the picture of Mary and John proudly smiling next to Sam at his graduation. He even wears one of those dorky outfits with the funky hats. Dean smiles at this and decides the look suites Sammy. His brother had always known how to wear funky hats.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun rose as every day, shining with its incredible accuracy, from thousands and thousands of miles away and still hitting the spot that was Dean's eyes, waking him with its almost tickling warmth. He groaned and shifted on the sofa so that his back was against the sun, letting him sleep for a couple of more minutes, before he was too aware of the chirping of the birds settled on the branches of the tree next to the window.

Dean opened his eyes groggily, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light. The first thing he saw clearly was a picture of him and Sam as kids, standing in front of a Christmas tree, with John and Mary looming in the back ground, both smiling and wearing Santa hats.

He stared at the picture; letting it sink in, before he sat up, his feelings completely mixed from extreme happiness and joy to nauseating worry. He rubbed his eyes and looked again; the picture hadn't vanished or changed and the birds were still chirping away as eagerly as ever in the back ground. He looked around, pated at his pockets to find his phone. He found it after a while of searching; squished between the sofa cushions where it had fallen during his incredibly comfortable night's sleep; it must have been the best sleep he'd had on a couch. He shook his head at the thought before dialing a number he'd learnt by heart.

As the phone kept beeping, he rose from the sofa and wondered to the hallway. The house was still empty of noises, indicating his mother hadn't gotten up yet, which gave him time to think.

"O Hay, its me." the phone peeped out with the familiar voice of Sam Winchester and Dean almost started to rant at the phone before it continued; "I can't come to the pho-"

Dean hung up with a frustrated groan. This was not like Sam; usually the little prick was always next to his phone, ready to pick it up; why couldn't he be there now that Dean actually needed for him to pick up?

Dean stalked to the door and picked up a leather jacket shoving his feet into real brown leather shoes simultaneously for what seemed like the first time in forever. They had been conveniently placed on the chair next to the door, probably by Mary the night before, worried that his son would again run off into the world wearing only worn out slippers and a t-shirt.

He didn't mind; it was nice to have some real clothes. It was good to look decent when finding out what the hell was happening. At least he could ask questions without getting stared at. He walked out the door with only one thought in his mind;

What was going on?

Lance West wasn't used to students bursting into his office early in the morning with questions related to the one course he liked teaching; he was actually quite sure he'd never had anyone come to his office concerning this particular curse, if it was not to inform him that they were dropping out. And he understood the students; they would hardly have any use with the information he was shearing. This was a rather small university and the course was a bit unnecessary. It was just something he held close to his heart; it was his hobby, so to speak. And he loved teaching, so why not combine the two.

So he had started to teach it, almost giving away free study points, and the students had showed up from where ever they spent their free time nowadays.

The only thing he acquired of them was physical presence; he really didn't care if they followed the lecture or not and there was always someone who came up with interesting questions he enjoyed answering. It was all and all a win-win situation; the students got the points they so desperately needed and he got to rant on and on about ancient legends and myths.

That was why he was very surprised when the young man stumbled into his room and started asking questions about his Myths and Legends class. Pleasantly surprised, he added in his mind.

The man looked like he was just as interested in the subject as he was. The burning in his green eyes reminded him of himself, and as he put down the cup of morning coffee he had been holding as the boy had walked in, there was already a familiar excitement of loosing yourself into the old legends gnawing at the back of his mind.

He did take a closer look at the young man though; he was sure he would have remembered that sort of enthusiasm from the lectures;

"I don't think I've seen you in my class before." he said and raised an eyebrow. He did have a rather large group this year, and it wasn't unusual for someone to stay in the backgrounds during lectures; they were either too shy or, as he suspected in this case, too "cool" to be showcasing any interest in a weird course such as this one.

"You kiddin' me?" The boy who had introduced himself as Dean had asked and smiled winningly (Lance was sure at that moment that he was not the only one the boy had been asking odd things from, but that thought was gone just as fast as it had come), "I love your lectures. You.." Dean looked like he was lost for words, and the professor could relate; when you were passionate about something, you hardly thought of words to express your feelings towards the thing. "You make learning fun." the boy said finally and Lance could feel himself smiling widely. That was the biggest compliment one could give a teacher.

From that moment on, Lance West was sold.

"So, what can I do for you?" he asked.

For a moment Dean looked like he wasn't sure if he should answer, and that made the professor even surer about his previous assumption that the boy was too cool to let himself ask questions; he was even now holding the questions bottled up inside. So he just smiled understandingly and let the student take his time.

"What can you tell me about Djinns?"

Ah, one of his favourite subjects.

Lance had been right, this young man indeed was just as interested in mythology as he was; and there seemed to be a lot of things he knew already, which made their conversation flow naturally. They had dragged through more books in a short time than what he had done by himself in years, and he could feel the excitement tingling in his fingertips as he flipped yet another page into view.

"A lot of Muslims believed the Djinn are very real. They're mentioned in the Koran."

The younger of the two nodded his agreement. "Yeah, yeah, I know. What about the wish part?"

The professor chuckled; the boy was being eager, and he understood; the wish part was his favourite part about the creatures as well. And yet he found himself asking, almost teasing the student; "What about it?"

The other seemed to look pondering for a while and then looked at him, asking the question he wasn't sure was asked with complete seriousness. But you never do expect seriousness while talking about things like genies and magic, so perhaps you could have said that the amount of it inserted in the question took him by surprise. "Do you think they could really do it?"

He looked at the younger man and for a second he wished he could have said that yes, yes he did.  
"Uhm… no. No I don't think they can really do it. You understand," he just had to say it, for his own credibility if nothing else," these are mythic creatures?"

"Yeah, I know. I, I…" Dean looked for the right words and the professor could see the need to believe blink behind the eyes of the man he believed to be his student. Perhaps it took one to recognize another, he thought, and let the young man continue, "I know. But uh… I mean in the stories. You know." well, Lance was prepared to play along with this, as long as the conversation at least _seemed_ hypothetical. "Say you had a wish, uh, but you never said it out loud. You know like that ah.." Dean held a short pause, and drove his hand through his hair in something that to Lance looked like he was looking for a right kind of scenario, "that a loved one never died. Or that ah, something awful never happened."

Lance thought about this suggestion for a moment while under strict observation of green eyes. He scrunched his eyebrows and gave a shrug;

"Supposedly yes. I mean they have Godlike power." he said, pointing at the closest open book with a picture of a tattooed man touching someone's, presumably a victim's forehead and a sort of blue glow seemed to be erupting from his hand. "They can alter reality however they want. Past. Present. Future." god knew he would have given anything for that kind of power. Wouldn't anyone?

"Why would the Djinn do it? It was self-defense? Or maybe it's not really evil." it was like the young man was talking to himself now. Deans face had relaxed a little, his eyes had gone blank with a far-away look in them and Lance was getting a bit worried of his newly found kinder spirits mental stability; it was dangerous to get lost so deeply into these myths, no matter how desperately you'd wish they'd be true.

"Son?"

"Hm?" was all he got as an answer; but at least the young man was again focusing on him and not at something in the faraway distance. "You been drinking?"

Somehow he hoped that the answer would be negative, that the kid just wanted to believe, that there were some people just as obsessed as he was, but it would be better for the kid if that indeed wasn't the case.

Dean just smiled. "Everybody keeps asking me that. But uh.. No."

As the boy exited his office and he himself sat back in his chair with a refreshed cup of coffee in his hand, he decided he would look for this young man at his next lecture, and perhaps try to get him involved into the conversation. He seemed to have rather interesting opinions about things. And he rather liked the kid.

Little did Lance West know, as he sipped from his coffee and sighed with contentment, that he would never be seeing that green-eyed man again.

Dean walked to the car with the biggest grin he'd ever had on his face. He popped up the trunk, just to make sure of something; there was no hidden super-secret hush-hush going to be thrown in jail gun stash in the trunk. The only thing lying around was a couple of used paper cups, an old newspaper magazine and a rag that he was sure he used to clean his hands after changing oils to the car, if you could say anything by the look of that thing.

Even if the sight did make him feel a bit naked and vulnerable, he did like to have some protection after all, more than that it made him laugh like he hadn't laughed in years. There was no need for him to want that protection; he had been safe his whole life here. He closed the trunk with a bang, sat on the rear of his loved car and patted it gently.

"Who'd thought, baby. We're civilians."

He smiled at his feet like he'd just gotten his ability to walk back and closed his eyes for a moment.

At a sound of a car's engine banging, he looked up and his heart sank all the way to his feet. Across the busy street, there was a woman in white, just standing there, staring at him. Her brown eyes were blank, like she couldn't see anything, her dark hair hanging on the sides of her head, making it look like she had been given a good dip in tank filled with water. No one seemed to lay notice to her even if she was only wearing a nightgown and was bare foot.

Automatically, thanks to years of training, Dean started to walk towards her. The street was busy with cars, but he refused to take his eyes off of this mysterious girl; he was forced to do though, when he heard the screeching whine of breaks and a car horn honking.

For a moment he tore his eyes away from the girl, just so he can jump out of the way, as the blue Toyota with its angry looking driver pass him, and when he looked back the girl was gone, vanished into thin air.

"Fuck."

**Author's note:** I'm sorry for the long wait for this update, this chapter just didn't want to get written and I've been extremely busy with work and finals. I'll try to update as soon as possible, at the latest next Thursday.

And if you all are wondering, next chapter has more of Cass in it, so no worries, we'll get there :D

Thanks again for the nice reviews, I do appreciate those!


	5. Chapter 5

Dean just sat in his car, staring at the steering wheel. There had never been a time when he would have wished harder that he had seen a ghost; just a simple ghost, a haunted street, a house, a something. He would even rather have the ghost haunt him, and not be something that could be related to a certain Djinn.

He rested his head on his hands, pressing his palms quite heavily to his eyes, willing the image of the girl disappear from his thoughts.

He lifted his gaze to the street and watched people pass by on their way to places they needed to be at and to people they needed to see. Where should he go from here? He shook his head and face palmed his forehead on the wheel. What was he supposed to do?

As he was dwelling in his self-pity his phone started to ring. Instead of the usual starting tunes of Not Going Away, he heard the chorus of Cherry Pie; it wasn't his usual ringtone, so it took him a while to realize that it was his phone that was ringing.

He gave the phone a squint; since when had it started to play Cherry Pie? Apparently since the man named Cas had waltzed into his life, since the name on the screen said just that. Cas.

To pick up or not to pick up the call? It was a raging battle in the hunters head, but finally he decided to answer, since the man obviously was important to him in some way; he had woken beside him, got pecked by him and he had his phone number (he did not give his phone number to one night stands; they all got a number to a bar in downtown Boston, that had an excellent selection of bourbons).

"Yeah?" he said to the phone warily, not knowing what to expect.

"Are you alright?" came the worried answer after a deep sigh Dean interpreted as a sound of extreme relief.

"I…" he really wasn't sure. Could this state where he felt so wrong and right at the same time be called ok; because it sure as hell felt like something completely of the opposite? "I don't know."

Cas took a deep breath to calm himself. At least Dean had answered. He was at least somewhat in his right mind and wasn't lying in some ditch half naked and half dead. "It's ok." he told the hunter, "you don't need to be sure. Just tell me that you're not in some sort of trouble or anything."

"Nothing like that." Dean said and smiled a little at the mother hen tone of the other man. "I'm… I'm just soul searching for a while I guess."

That earned a chuckle from the other end of the phone. "Couldn't you do that soul searching on our porch in a comfortable chair and a beer in the other hand?"

Dean smiled; that did sound good. All though, he wasn't quite sure where that porch was, nor how he could ask that without sounding completely idiotic. He gave a grimace.

"And you did have your mother worried sick over you," not to mention _me_, Cas thought as he sat down on the sofa and drew his feet into his lap, leaning his chin on his knees, "she called this morning and told that you'd baled on her."

Dean grimaced again and massaged his temple to relieve the headache he was getting and to file thoughts into their right places.

"Yeah, I guess I should go over and apologize, shouldn't I?"

Cas huffed. "I think you should."

"Yeah, yeah…" it was so easy to talk to this man Dean thought; it was almost like talking to Sam, like they had known each other for ages.

"I'll bring you a change of clothes when I come over, at least a new pair of socks." Cas said with a smirk on his face.

Dean chuckled. Yes, apparently this man knew him quite well. The only clothing he had been missing was socks; his feet were itchy and sweaty in the shoes.

"Sure, I'll see you there." he said with a funny little smile plastered on his face, and started to search his pockets for his keys.

"No need to thank me." Cas said rising from the sofa as well and patting to the bedroom to pick up clothes for Dean. He knew perfectly well where everything was, since he was the one doing the laundry; last time Dean had used the washing machine, they had been going around in either weirdly pink or slightly too small clothing for weeks. It had had its perks though; taking off the clothes as soon as they were inside their apartment.

"Thanks." Dean said and woke Castiel from a rather fond memory.

"Mhmm. See you soon." Cas said and put the phone away, pondering if jeans were too casual for a dinner party or not.

Dean had no idea why, but he had his funny smile on his face the whole way to his mother's place.

"This is the best sandwich ever!"

Dean had his mouth full of ham sandwich, homemade, by his mother and he was in heaven. The first bite of the thing had made him grunt in almost pleasurable way, it was just so good. There was just the right amount of mayo, two different kinds of ham and tomatoes and god only knows what else, but goodness is what it was. He was wolfing down on the thing like he'd gone hungry for years.

"Thank you." Mary called back from the next room where she was doing the dishes.

Dean took another bite of his piece of heaven disguised as a sandwich, and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"I tried to get hold of Sam earlier." he told his mother, perhaps she knew where that tall as a moose of a brother had disappeared to, "Where's he?"

"Oh, he'll be here soon."

Dean huffed. Well then, that was settled.

"Good. Dying to see him." wonder what was going on with him.

Mary then stepped out of the kitchen, wiping down his hands that were slightly dripping of soap water she'd used to wash the dishes. She was wearing a frown and a slightly worried face, which made Dean wonder what was going on.

"Sweetie, I…" she said and sat on the chair opposite to Dean, "Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled you are…" she gave Dean a searching look, "hanging out here… all of a sudden."

Dean puts the sandwich (or what's left of it) down on the plate and looks at his mother, who's again hugging herself with her hands as if she was cold. "But uh… shouldn't you be at work?"

"Work?" he had not thought about work.

"At the garage." Mary said and smiled a bit.

"Right. The garage." where the garage sure was a better option considering what he had been doing previously. "It's where I work, yeah." sure. He had nothing against to working at a garage. "No, I-I've got a day off." he imagined himself explaining why he had felt obligated to take a day off to some older and rounder dude with a large beard. The thought made him snicker and the snicker made Mary lift an eyebrow questioningly at his son like he would be five again and done some kind of a prank.

"It's a good thing." he says, picks the sandwich up again and takes a bite, grunting, wondering how he forgot about the goodly taste of the thing.

When Dean had finished the best sandwich of his life (he's slightly disappointed that the thing hadn't lasted longer) he gets up of the chair and takes his plate to the kitchen, deciding that he is going to wash it, just so there won't be all new dishes for Mary to wash. While he is washing the plate, the grass outside the window seems to be calling him.

"That lawn looks like it could use some mowing." he mumbles to himself, realizing how badly he just wants to mow that lawn, to _have_ a lawn to mow. Because that's a thing you do when you have a home; you mow your lawn.

"You want to mow the lawn?" Mary asked, slightly amused. His older son had never been the one to do pretty much anything if not first kicked on the butt and then dragged to the whatever-it-was-that-needed-to-be-done. Yes, she was amused that he wanted to mow the lawn.

"You kidding?" Dean asked and for a moment Mary thought that he was going to just roll his eyes and laugh, of course he wouldn't want to… "I'd love to mow the lawn." Well then.

"Knock yourself…." and Dean was out the door. "…out."

Mary stood at the window, for a long time, just watching the young Winchester on her lawn, eagerly trying to wake the mower to life.

"Could think you never mowed a lawn in your life." she muttered and snickered slightly when Dean started at the harsh sound of the lawn mower finally waking.

Dean decided that happiness is to mow your own lawn. Or your mom's lawn, but it's close enough. And perhaps he could mow his own lawn at his and Cas' place when he gets home.

He hummed at the word home; he hadn't thought about it at first, but that's what the apartment had felt like; _home_.

The hunter kept entertaining himself with the lawn mower and feeling all kinds of happy about it.

A neighbor of sorts, a man in his bathrobe and p-jays, a garbage bag in one hand and wearing pink slippers shows up and Dean waves at him, like a normal neighbor should. The man waves casually back, smiling tiredly at him and his lawn mower, like he just woke up.

Can life get any better than this?

**Author's note: so this fill is a bit shorter, but it's something. And I will have another up in a week. Trench coat thursday and all :) So yes.. Thank you all for the reviwes, I love you guys. Never thought I'd get so many. Yes, 20 is many in my books :'D**


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